


if a tree could wander

by shivermetimbers



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: First Time, Multi, Pre-Battle, Team Bonding, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 08:43:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shivermetimbers/pseuds/shivermetimbers
Summary: Leia might die in the Hutt lair, but she would die having had this last night.





	

“Are you crazy?” 

Leia would have indignantly denied it, but it was, after all, the night before she planned to voluntarily walk into a Hutt’s lair. Perhaps she was a little bit crazy. But not for the reason Luke meant, his arms akimbo and his careful Jedi calm slipping.

Instead of denying it, she shrugged, her mother’s elegantly casual one-shouldered shrug. “It was just an offer.”

Luke was still eyeing her, his brows drawn down. “Is it like a Rebel thing? People … sleep together before a mission? To … unify the team?” 

Leia could have said yes. He would probably have believed her. For all his Force power, Luke was still just a kid from the Outer Rim, all blond desert-swept locks and big eyes and endearing streak of naiveté. He’d race across the galaxy to rescue his friends, he’d face Darth Vader and get his hand chopped off, but let a girl once suggest a pre-mission fling, and he was all blushes and shyness. 

“No,” she said, letting her mouth turn up at the corners, just a little. “It’s not in the Rebel Handbook, Master Jedi.” 

He flushed. “You know what I meant.”

Every night before a big mission, Leia dreamt of Alderaan. The mission to retrieve the stolen Death Star plans had been her first major mission, the first time she had stepped undeniably and irreversibly into the fray against the Empire. That had ended in torture and genocide, held against Vader’s unyielding frame as her people were blown from the universe. 

Now she heard them screaming in her dreams, the night before every mission.

“I thought it might be a fun way to pass the time,” she said. “You’re cute. Lando’s passable.”

“You flatter me,” Lando said, from his seat by the holochessboard. There was laughter in his voice. He always came across as overly self-confident, Leia thought, too urbane and polished and suave, a politician in a smuggler’s suit. But it had been a long time since Han went into the carbonite, and she had seen Lando’s true mettle on more than one occasion.

She returned her attention to Luke. “If you’re not interested, you can keep Chewie company while Lando and I go work off some of the nervous energy.”

Luke caught his lip under his teeth. She didn’t think he was aware he’d done it. 

Leia didn’t intend to dream that night. She intended to fill her last pre-mission hours with laughter and sweat and affectionate touch, not a single moment wasted or left free. If she was going to die tomorrow – and after Alderaan, she took no day for granted – she wanted to die with the taste of joy and laughter on her lips, not with the shadows of her losses lingering over her.

She crossed to him, raised a hand to his cheek. “No pressure,” she said. “Maybe Jedi need to meditate before a fight. I won’t judge.”

Luke’s eyes fell shut, his face turning into her touch.

“I might judge a little,” Lando said, close behind her. His cologne was understated, spicy; it drew you in, a confident scent for a confident man. She could feel his warmth. “Jedi self-denial isn’t good for you.”

Leia let her head drop back on his shoulder, keeping her hand resting lightly on the curve of Luke’s jaw.

She could remember the last time she hugged her father, as if it were yesterday. He had held her so tenderly; she thought sometimes, in retrospect, that somehow he’d known it was the last time – but surely he couldn’t have known. 

When the Death Star had loomed out of the sky, she hoped he had been with her mother. She hoped that they had thought of her, that they had been relieved that she had been off-planet; she hoped that her father had remembered that last embrace, and so somehow she had been with them in spirit, there at the last.

Leia might die in the Hutt lair, but she would die having had this last night with her friends.

Luke’s eyes opened. They were very clear, this close. She smiled.

“Fuck it,” he said, and leaned down to kiss her.

~

Leia was surprised by how good Luke turned out to be in bed. If Lando’s politician-slickness was a bit deceptive, apparently Luke’s wide-eyed farmboy act was too. Or perhaps she had underestimated farmboys. After all, there couldn’t have been a lot to do with your time on a backwater planet like Tattooine. (Beyond avoiding the Hutts.)

He also snored, which amused her. One of the only Jedi left in the universe, and he snored, which wasn’t exactly serene and mysterious. 

Leia felt warm and hazy, the halo of orgasmic wellbeing still holding her in its thrall. She had laughed and panted and thrown her head back, her unbound hair falling like a river across her shoulders and breasts. She had had Luke between her legs and Lando kissing her, dirty and deep, and she had moaned, guttural and deep. She had risen and fallen, shuddered and thrilled, and found moments of perfect bliss.

Now she stretched, careful not to disturb her bedmates. Lando slept silently, curled around her like a cat, and Luke was long and firm against her back. She could not tell them apart, Jedi and smuggler; all men were the same naked.

She didn’t mean to sleep, but somehow she drifted off, warm and safe in their embrace. 

Tomorrow Leia would walk into a Hutt’s lair. 

Tonight she slept, and dreamed of nothing but the rumble of Luke’s snores.


End file.
